


Naked Light I Saw

by fandomlver



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, bilbo is the ghost whisperer basically, one is gen, one is just barely slash, seriously you'd hardly notice it, there are terrible implications, these are sad, two versions of the same prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomlver/pseuds/fandomlver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme prompt: </p><p>For Bilbo, who can see spirits, it's not the Ghosts of the Dwarves who died during Smaug's attack that break his heart.</p><p>It's the ones who survived, trapped inside the mountain, clinging to the hope that rescue would come, until the last scrap of food was gone and the last drop of water vanished.</p><p>The ones that hoped to be saved, until the day they stopped breathing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gen version

"No."

"Master Hobbit..."

"My name is Bilbo, Dwalin, and still no. I will not walk into that mine shaft."

Dwalin rolls his eyes the way he does when he thinks Bilbo's being very slow or deliberately obtuse. "All you need do is walk to that corner, hold up your torch, and describe what you see. We'll be able to see you the whole way."

"It isn't you seeing me I'm worried about."

"You're the smallest and the lightest. The floor may be weak. You have the best chance."

"I understand the reasons, but I'm not going in there." It's not the first time he's refused to enter a chamber or tunnel, but it is the first time anyone's argued this hard. Bilbo doesn't care. He's not walking into that mine shaft. He can see what's waiting for him down there.

"I'll go."

Bilbo turns to see Kíli already tripping off his heavy coat and weapons, passing them to Fíli along with his dagger and gloves. Fíli accepts them without protest, but he’s frowning. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not much heavier than he is, and I’ll have a better sense of where to step.” He grins completely sincerely at Bilbo.

“Kíli –“ Dwalin starts. 

“He doesn’t have to,” Fíli says sharply. “Bilbo is not a Dwarf, and we shouldn’t be throwing him at mines and expecting him to provide a miracle.”

“Although if anyone is going to provide a miracle, it’ll be our Master Boggins,” Kíli adds cheerfully, taking Balin’s torch with a grin and ducking into the tunnel.

Dwalin snorts. “Nori, escort Master Hobbit back to the living areas. Perhaps he won’t be so picky about helping Bombur with dinner.”

“I’ll take him,” Balin says before Nori can answer. “I wanted to speak with you anyway, Bilbo.”

Bilbo finds himself ushered away. He’s aware that Balin is choosing a path that will avoid the areas Bilbo has refused to enter, but he’s so tired he can’t really focus on it. It’s a kind thought, but it won’t help much. What he’s trying to avoid is everywhere; it only throngs more thickly in those rooms.

In the residential levels, Balin steers Bilbo to a seat, studying him. “You’re very pale, Bilbo.” Bilbo doesn’t answer, and Balin smiles faintly. “Well, fighting with my brother will do that to a body.”

Bilbo shakes his head. “I don’t want to be fighting with him. I don’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Fíli’s right. You aren’t a Dwarf, and expecting you to act as one is unfair.”

Bilbo twines his fingers together, staring at them. “It isn’t that I don’t want to help. I do, very much. But I cannot do what Dwalin is asking me.”

He toys with the idea of explaining exactly why he can’t enter the deep parts of Erebor, why even some of the residences are closed to him. Balin might understand. But it would hurt him deeply, more than anyone except Thorin; and, though it’s selfish, Bilbo cannot bear to have the Dwarves look at him as the Hobbits do.

Balin watches him for a moment before sitting beside him. “There’s an old Dwarfish legend,” he says conversationally. “Not one we believe nowadays, not truly. About people called –“ He hums for a moment. “I’ve only ever heard it in Khuzdul, but I think in Westron it might be Death Speakers. Certain Dwarves, the legend goes, had the ability to see what remained of those who’d died. Men call them ghosts, or spirits…they say when someone dies in anger, or violence, that something lingers. And the Death Speakers could see those remnants.”

He’s silent, but Bilbo’s throat has closed and he can’t speak.

“And I thought,” Balin continues softly, “if such a thing existed, in other races than Dwarves, then bringing them here might be very cruel. Because I know that many died here, in fear and agony.”

“It isn’t…” Bilbo has to stop, and think about the words, forcing them around the lump in his throat. “I don’t know what your legends say,” he said finally, unable to stop himself from telling Balin. Maybe, if he really has legends, maybe he won’t think Bilbo is godsforsaken as the Hobbits do. “And if you lost someone here, I am sorry. But I cannot talk to them, I cannot pass on a message in either direction.”

“No,” Balin agrees placidly. “I did not expect you to. And I’ll say nothing,” he adds at Bilbo’s look. “Although I will make it clear to my brother that you will go where you will and only where you will.”

Bilbo shudders, looking back at his hands. “It…” He has to stop again to swallow. “The ones you mean, they’re not a problem. I was expecting those. I know how to deal with those.”

“Then what is it, lad?”

He closes his eyes, unable to watch Balin’s face. “It’s the ones below.”

There’s silence for a long time, until Balin says “What ones below?”

“You have to understand, what I see – I only see. There’s impressions, feelings. Sometimes if I get too close, there’s memories. But they can’t talk to me. I don’t always know what’s happened.”

“What ones below, Bilbo?” And there’s a terrible urgency in Balin’s voice now.

Bilbo shakes as he answers. “When Smaug attacked, not everyone got out.”

“They burned.”

“No,” Bilbo whispers. “No. Some survived, and fled into the mines.”

“No,” Balin breathed. And he’s grown up in mines; he knows what happens when people are trapped inside. “Bilbo, no.”

“There were children.” Bilbo knows he’s being cruel now, but he can’t stop, can’t breathe under the weight of what he’s been seeing. “I watched them wait, for days, thinking they’d be rescued. They cried for hunger and thirst, and when the dams finally realised no one was coming – when they realised, they couldn’t bear to let the children starve…”

He breaks, then, weeping into his hands. Balin has tears running down his face, but he lays one hand on Bilbo’s arm.

When Bilbo has calmed, Balin says quietly, “You know where this happened?”

“Yes.”

“Will you show me? On the plans,” he adds at Bilbo’s terrified look. “I’ll not ask you to go back there.”

“Why?”

“Because they were our people, and they were abandoned in life. I’ll not leave them abandoned in death.” He studies Bilbo. “Will it help? Proper burial and ceremonies?”

Bilbo shakes his head. “Time helps. Nothing else. What’s here, what I see, it’s not – them. Only an impression; like a coat that still smells like someone. It fades away.” He’s watching the shade of a tiny Dwarf flee across the hall, crying helplessly.

Balin jogs his arm lightly. “Bilbo.”

“Yes.”

“If you wished to leave, for a while – until they fade…”

Bilbo smiles. “It’s been a hundred and fifty years, Balin. They have not faded yet.” He looks away as the tiny Dwarf flees past again. “Show me the plans. I will show you where your people lie. And then I’d very much like to sleep for a while.”

It won’t be restful. He’ll watch the Dwarflings die over and over in his dreams. But at least he won’t have to hide his reactions. He can cry for them then.

 

_And in the naked light I saw_  
 _Ten thousand people, maybe more_  
 _People talking without speaking_  
 _People hearing without listening_  
 _...and no one dared_  
 _Disturb the sound_  
 _Of silence._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternate take on the same prompt as chapter one. This version includes some very mild slash.

Bilbo is growing used to waking from nightmares, crying and shaking in Kíli‘s arms. Kíli is always quiet and gentle, soothing him until he’s calm, holding him until he feels better. Though he clearly wants desperately to know what the nightmares are about, he never pushes Bilbo to talk about them, just makes it clear that when he’s ready to talk, he’s listen.

So when he wakes up one morning to an empty bed, he isn’t sure what was going on.

“Are you awake?”

He turns, startled, to see Kíli leaning against the wall by the door, arms folded. “What? Kíli...”

“Another bad dream?”

Bilbo sits up, watching him. “What’s wrong?”

“You talked in your sleep.”

“I often talk in my sleep. What’s _wrong_?”

Kíli pushes away from the wall, wandering towards the bed. “You talked in your sleep in Khuzdul.”

Bilbo shakes his head. “I don’t know any Khuzdul. You know that.”

“Yes, I know. But you were speaking perfect Khuzdul.” Kíli glances at Bilbo, abandoning his meandering path around the room to come and hunker by the bed. “What were you dreaming?”

“What was I saying?” Kíli makes a face and Bilbo adds quickly, “I’m not – I’ll tell you. But I need to know what I was saying.”

Another face, but Kíli answers. “You were crying for the dwarflings. They were hurting, they were dying. You were mourning them. Tearing your heart out.” He shifts, sitting on the bed; close enough to touch Bilbo, but shoulders pulled in and hands on his lap. He couldn’t be broadcasting ‘don’t touch’ any louder if he was screaming it. “What did you dream, Bilbo?” he asks softly.

Bilbo thinks very quickly. “I need to show you something.”

“Bilbo,” Kíli groans.

“No, Kíli. I’m telling you. I promise. But I have to show you. Please.”

Kíli studies him for a moment before standing. “Where are we going?”

Bilbo scrambles into his clothes. “Down to the mines, on the south end.”

“Those haven’t been cleared yet.”

“I know. We’re not going far. It’s safe as far as we need to go.”

"I hope you're certain."

"I am. And bring your brother along."

Kíli studies him for a moment before leaving the room. By the time he returns, Fíli in tow and carrying two lanterns in one hand, Bilbo is as ready as he's ever going to be.

They travel in silence. Bilbo's not sure what Kíli's told his brother, but he seems to have grasped that something important is happening anyway. When they reach the mines both princes hesitate. Bilbo keeps going, and after a moment they catch up to him.

"Maybe we should find Bofur," Fíli suggests. "He knows these tunnels better than anyone."

"We can't bring anyone," Bilbo answers. "Not this time."

"You think we'll be back?” Kíli asks uncertainly, turning in a slow circle to look at the walls.

"I won't. Someone will." Bilbo halts in the center of the passage. "There's a large room up ahead. I don't know what you call it, but it goes up and up; they were working the walls for gems."

"Yes," Fíli says when he doesn't continue. "There are many like it all over the mountain."

Bilbo nods slowly. "When the dragon came, not everyone escaped in time. Those who didn't fled to places like this, places where there was room for them to wait. And they waited."

"Waited?" Fíli echoes, not seeming to understanding, though there's a terrible suspicion dawning in Kíli's eyes.

"Waited for rescue." Bilbo swallows. "Then, after a while, they waited for death. Some of them went to face the dragon, hoping they could get through. You've seen what happened to them. But the dams, and the children, they waited."

Kíli whirls, plunging down the passage and into the chamber. A howl of grief echoes back to them. Fíli flinches, pushing the lantern at Bilbo before hurrying after his brother.

Bilbo has retreated almost to the entrance of the mine by the time they emerge. Both are red eyed; Fíli is still weeping softly.

Kíli looks up, locking his gaze on Bilbo. “You knew this and you didn’t tell anyone. You left them to lie there abandoned.”

“I didn’t know where they were until two nights ago. I was trying – I didn’t know who to tell, or how.”

“How?” Kíli echoes disbelievingly.

“What should I have done?” Bilbo protested. “ ‘Good morning, Thorin, fine day today. Oh, and while I think of it, hundreds of your kin fled to the mines when Smaug attacked, and they starved to death there waiting for you to return and save them!’ “

The brothers are staring at him, and Bilbo realizes abruptly that he’s been shouting. He backs up until he hits a wall; then he slides down it to huddle miserably at its base. “They died waiting,” he keens softly.

Kíli and Fíli exchange looks before Kíli sits beside him, sitting awkwardly a hands’ breadth away from him, rubbing his arm. Fíli stays standing above them while his sobs died into shudders and his breathing evened out; then he hunkers, watching him. “How did you know, Bilbo?”

“He sees it in dreams,” Kíli says. His voice is remote, and though he’s still rubbing Bilbo’s arm, there’s something distant and mechanical about it. “He mourned them in Khuzdul last night.”

“Not just dreams,” Bilbo murmurs. He’s exhausted, wrung out as he always is when he lets this affect him so badly. “Always. It just doesn’t matter when I’m awake, because I can ignore it. I can’t do that when I’m sleeping.”

Fíli looks at him sharply. “All the time?”

Bilbo nods past his shoulder. “A Dwarf boy – I don’t know Dwarf ages, but young –“ He holds his hand at about waist level on himself. “There was no more water, and the children were crying. And he was the oldest male left. All the others, they faced the dragon or they died looking for food or water or a way out – there was only him, and the dams, and the babes. So he slipped away. But, no water, no food, no light to see his way…he made it this far. The dams brought him back in.” He leans forward, aware of Kíli recoiling as though burned, and touches a patch of ground no different than any other. “He lay here, a day or two, until they realized. Until they came to get him.”

“Bilbo,” Fíli breathes, eyes wide in horror, and Bilbo shakes the trance away, turns, and throws up harshly.

There’s discussion over his head, talking about bringing Thorin down. Bilbo ignores it, concentrating on not adding to the mess he’s kneeling over. Eventually Fíli crouches beside him, one hand on his back. “Bilbo, forgive me, but I have to ask. You said hundreds. There was only a fraction of that in that chamber.”

Bilbo nods wearily. “They’re all over. I don’t know where, yet. I’ll tell you when I do.”

Fíli nods, turning to speak to Kíli; Bilbo catches at his sleeve to get his attention. “I am sorry, Master Fíli.”

“I am sorry too,” he says, and there’s such sympathy in his eyes Bilbo almost breaks down all over again.

Fíli goes, and Kíli takes his place. “Can you stand, Bilbo? It might be best if you were not here when the others arrive. I can keep them out of our room, at least.”

“Is it still our room?” Bilbo murmurs, too worn out to censor himself. 

“Of course it is,” Kíli says, sounding surprised; and then, unsure of himself, “Unless you –“

“No,” Bilbo interrupts him. “I want. Very much.”

He holds out a hand, and Kíli helps him up, fingers lingering on his. “Come on,” he whispers, and Bilbo lets him lead him away. There’ll be time to worry about the rest of it later. For now he just wants to lie down in Kíli’s arms and sleep.

_And in the naked light I saw_   
_Ten thousand people maybe more_   
_People talking with speaking_   
_People hearing without listening_   
_...and no one dared_   
_Disturb the sound of Silence_


End file.
